Boots and Leather
by NephilimEQ
Summary: Harry wants Bob to come to a concert with him...and things get interesting. *wink* PLEASE READ & REVIEW! Reviews help me grow as a writer.
1. Chapter 1

**Boots and Leather**

**1**

Harry Dresden grinned like an idiot as he walked through his front door, groceries in his arms, with two tickets in his back pocket. Today was turning out to be a good day. A _very_ good day.

Bob, who was in the kitchen washing the dishes, heard the front door open and then heard Harry whistling a random upbeat tune. The ex-ghost smiled to himself as he heard this, glad to know that Harry was feeling happy and was in such a good mood.

Curious as to what was causing it, Bob thought about asking him, but decided not to ruin whatever the man had up his sleeve, and instead he simply asked,

"Harry? Did you get the groceries?"

"Yep, sure did," the wizard replied, his tone just as upbeat as his whistling. He then continued by saying, "I also got us something else as well, and I think you're gonna like it."

At hearing that, Bob silently groaned. What Harry _thought_ he liked and what he _actually_ liked, were usually two _very_ different things. Harry, however, had somehow heard his mentor's groan and quickly reassured him.

"Hey, trust me, Bob. You'll enjoy this…and considering what it took for me to get it, you should at _least_ be appreciative."

Hearing the warning tone in the man's voice, Bob decided to give Harry a chance. He turned around and leaned against the sink, the damp dishrag in his hand, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, heaving a sigh of resignation.

Harry walked into the kitchen and dumped several precariously balanced brown paper bags onto the small dining table and then turned to Bob, a silly grin appearing on his lips. He then whipped out two slips of paper from his back pocket and waved them in the air between them.

"We've got tickets…to _the_ greatest concert…ever!"

Bob merely raised an eyebrow in response, and then said, in an almost bored tone, "And…?"

Harry looked at him, raising his own eyebrows.

"And this is the _last_ concert that this guy is going to be giving for the rest of his career! This guy was one of the few eighties' singers that was actually good, and I mean _good_."

Bob said nothing, still trying to understand why Harry was telling him this and trying to figure out why he should be excited about it, while at the same time waiting to be impressed, but Harry, not noticing Bob's disinterest, continued to ramble on.

"I used to listen to this guy on the radio all the time when I was a kid, on the old radio in the kitchen. You'll love him, Bob, I'm _sure_ of it." He paused for a moment, sliding the tickets back into his back pocket, and opening one of the paper bags. "He's amazing, and I'm _positive_ you remember him, Bob…remember that poster that I had that I hid from Uncle Justin whenever he came to inspect my room each week?"

Bob thought for a moment, muddling through his memories, and slowly recalled the poster that Harry had mentioned.

It had had a man on it that had tan skin, thick dark hair, wearing black, torn jeans and a black leather coat, paired with black combat boots. What was the man's name? Jimmy Iron, or something like that?

Suddenly, it came to him.

"Steele…Johnny Steele," Bob said, nodding his head, and Harry grinned.

"See! Told you that you'd remember," he said, motioning a hand towards him that was holding a bag of carrots.

At hearing this, Bob simply gave Harry a look; one of his infamous ones. It was the one that said, _'No. It's not going to happen.'_

He then said, "Harry…what on earth possessed you to think that I would want to go to such a thing?"

Harry simply grinned, yet again, as he put away more of the groceries.

"Bob, you've got to learn to expand your tastes, and Johnny Steele is perfect for that. Besides, it's just the one time," he added, putting the apples into the bowl on the table.

Bob continued to stand there, his arms still crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed. Him? Go to a rock concert?

The image was laughable; hysterical, even. Why on earth did Harry _really_ want him to do this?

He kept his scrutinizing eye on the young wizard, watching him for any signs that might tell him why Harry was doing what he was doing, but Harry simply continued to unpack the bags. When he was done, he saw Bob watching him and rolled his eyes.

"Look, Bob," he said, sounding exasperated. "I swear that I don't have any ulterior motive, here…I simply thought that we could enjoy some time together."

Bob then realized what was really going on…Harry _really _just wanted to spend some time with him. Everything suddenly fell into place at the revelation.

Since Bob had become corporeal, he had constantly been in meetings with the Council, as they were keeping an annoyingly close eye on him and his actions these days, and he was also being "volunteered" to help the wardens…specifically Morgan, and due to all of that, he had been gone quite a bit.

Harry had been busy as well as Murphy had been needing a lot of his services on her last few cases, which meant that the only time that the two of them usually saw each other was at their intermittent and inconsistent meal times.

Harry missed him. And Bob would admit that he, too, missed Harry.

Realizing this, a slow smile crossed Bob's lips.

"Fair enough, Harry. Fair enough."

The smile that stretched across Harry's lips at Bob's words, made him feel as though the sun had just risen a second time that day. He felt a faint flush run through him, but he decided not to examine the feeling too closely, and quickly found a change of subject.

"When is it?" he inquired, curious as to when they would be going.

"This Friday," said Harry, talking around a bite of apple that he'd just taken, while Bob tried not to roll his eyes at Harry's atrocious manners.

However, the answer caused Bob to start, and he looked at Harry with surprise. So soon? How had Harry gotten the tickets? Suddenly, he realized that Harry must have done something quite large, and possibly risky, to obtain the tickets.

"Harry…" Bob said tentatively, nervous about what he was about to ask him. "…how did you get the tickets?"

Harry just shrugged and swallowed his bite.

"Does it matter?"

Bob was suddenly much more worried at hearing Harry's blasé tone, the one he used when he was trying to not make a big deal out of something that really _was_ a huge deal. He decided to press the issue, determined to find the truth.

"Harry, how did you get those tickets?"

Harry could hear the warning tone in the wizard's voice and quickly realized that Bob was not going to let this go, so he decided to simply get it over with.

"I got them from Bianca, alright?"

He winced at the intense scrutiny of Bob's accusing stare, and physically pulled away from him as Bob spoke up.

"You bought them from _her?_ Let me guess," he said, his tone severe. "You now owe her a favor."

Harry nodded, not meeting the necromancer's eyes.

Bob was about to lay into Harry once more, but then he saw Harry's reaction and realized that the man truly was contrite, so he desisted and simply shook his head, still not quite believing that Harry had gone to Bianca for the tickets.

"Oh, well…what's done is done."

Harry looked up, surprised, but then Bob added, "That doesn't mean that I'm happy with the fact that you risked your neck for those tickets, so to speak."

Harry grimaced, but then nodded, understanding how worried Bob was. He, too, then realized how reckless and dangerous it had been, to go to Bianca, and that he probably shouldn't have taken the risk. But it meant more time with Bob, so to him that made it worth it.

"Yeah, well…you, know…I thought that you'd really enjoy it."

Bob could see the 'kicked-puppy-dog eyes' and he immediately felt bad for attempting to say no in the beginning, and he softened his posture, which was still defensive.

"Well, there's always a first time."

* * *

**Part 1/4**


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Bob stared as Harry got dressed for the concert and tried to control his very physical reaction to the sight before him.

Harry had stripped off his baggy sweater and had pulled on a tight-fitting dark blue t-shirt with a gold graphic design on the front that fit him right in all of the right places. It showed off his firm torso and long arms to their best advantage and proved that, yes, he _was_ in good shape. He had traded out his usual sweats for a pair of snug, nearly black jeans that showed off his long, elegant legs.

He then had thrown on his usual boots and leather duster, and you put it all together and he looked absolutely devastating…and now he was helping Bob with his outfit for the concert.

"Here," said Harry, tossing Bob a button-up from his closet. "Try this."

The pale-haired man caught the shirt and put it on the bed and then slowly stripped off his own shirt, unaware of the fact that Harry's eyes hungrily raked his bare torso. Slowly, he pulled the shirt on and he was pleasantly surprised to see that it fit him.

It was black with a shimmering red graphic design that snaked up the left side, across the front and over the right shoulder…and, surprisingly enough, he liked it.

Again, he was unaware of Harry's approving gaze.

"Hey, Bob…try these."

Bob caught the jeans that Harry had tossed him and then gave Harry a look, raising an eyebrow, and the wizard rolled his eyes and turned around.

Quickly, feeling very self-conscious, Bob dropped his pants and hastily stepped into the jeans, pulling them up his legs and sliding them over his hips, pulling up the zipper and buttoning the fly…and, again, he was surprised at how well they fit him. How on earth did Harry know his size?

"Can I look now?"

Bob chuckled, completely unaware of the reaction that Harry had to the sound.

"Yes, Harry. I'm decent."

_You have no idea how badly I wish you weren't_, thought Harry as he turned around.

Bob hesitantly, and somewhat awkwardly, held his arms away from his body and shrugged his shoulders. Harry motioned with a finger for Bob to do a three-sixty, and the man slowly rotated, waiting for Harry to say something. He couldn't take it any longer.

"So…?"

Harry smirked.

"Almost perfect…it just needs two more things…"

He then turned around and rifled through his closet once more. Bob waited, somewhat impatiently, and then nearly had the wind knocked out of him as a pair of boots and a hefty leather jacket hit him squarely in the chest.

He barely caught them and then raised an eyebrow at Harry's amused grin and said, "I believe that's three things, Harry."

Harry continued to grin.

"Put those on, Bob, and you'll fit right in."

Bob gave into the urge and rolled his eyes, and then sat down on the edge of Harry's bed and tugged the boots on and, just as with everything else, they were his size. He stood and threw the coat on and couldn't stop a small sigh from escaping him at the feel of a properly fitted leather coat.

Harry grinned and clapped one large hand on Bob's shoulder.

"I know…great coat, isn't it?" Bob nodded, and Harry continued. "Susan got that for me a long while back, and I had a hunch that you and I were the same size…in coats, at least."

He then moved to walk down the stairs, but Bob didn't, as he was too busy staring at him incredulously.

"But Harry…you're significantly broader in the shoulder than I am. That's not possible."

Harry gave him his own incredulous look and shook his head. "Boy, you really don't know what you look like, do you, Bob?" He shook his head a second time and continued down the stairs, leaving the ex-ghost to follow behind him, bewildered by Harry's comment.

Bob didn't know how to respond to Harry's words, so he simply walked behind him and followed him to the jeep.

* * *

**Part 2/4**


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The drive was quick, and as they parked and got out of the jeep, Bob suddenly started to feel extremely self-conscious.

He didn't go out in public all that often, and when he did it was usually only to the grocer or to the book store a block down from Harry's apartment...and now here he was at a rock concert, feeling as though everyone would be staring at him.

He followed Harry to the entrance of the stadium where the concert was being held, but then stopped just outside of the entrance and said, "Harry…won't I be a bit, well, old to be at a rock concert?"

Harry laughed and shook his head.

"Hells bells, no, Bob! In fact, most people are going to be in their late forties, and you don't look a day over thirty-five, in my opinion." He clapped his hand firmly on Bob's shoulder and pushed him ahead of him, through the doorway. "Just relax and have some fun, Bob…enjoy yourself."

Feeling buoyed by Harry's good mood, he nodded and walked with the wizard into the stadium…and was nearly done in at the amount of people that were there.

"Harry, there are…there are…"

He couldn't get the rest of the words out, and Harry smiled, having had a secret hunch that this would be Bob's reaction.

"Yeah, Bob…a _lot_ of people."

He grasped Bob's elbow and carefully maneuvered the two of them through the crowd, over to where their seats were…not that they would really be sitting during the concert. Most everyone would be standing and cheering for the man, of that Harry was certain.

He still couldn't believe that he'd actually gotten Bob to come to the concert. He had been certain that the man would put up more of a fight than he had.

Bob still looked bewildered by the number of people surrounding them, and Harry quickly realized that he had to get the man to relax.

Beer. They needed beer.

Though he didn't want to abandon Bob, he motioned for Bob to sit down, and Harry sat next to him, leaning in close so that Bob could hear what he was saying without having to yell over the din of the already riled up crowd.

"Hey, Bob…I'm going to get us some drinks, okay? Will you be alright right here? Promise I'll be back as soon as possible…"

Bob nodded, not saying anything, his lips in a tight line, and Harry gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Promise," he repeated, and then disappeared over to the concession stand, unaware of the fact that several women's gazes lingered appreciatively on his long lean profile.

Bob hunkered down in his seat, closing his eyes and slowly counting backward from one hundred in High German. It was the only way he could attempt to block out the mad sound of the crowd around him. Why, _why_ had he agreed to this? What was the point to it all?

It felt like an eternity, but he soon felt someone tapping on his shoulder, and he looked up, expecting to see Harry, but instead saw a young woman in her late twenties looking down at him.

She had shoulder length brown hair and hazel eyes, and was wearing dark blue jeans and a red shirt with a silver decal of a cross on the front. She had a bag around her waist that had the same decal, as well.

"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head to one side, looking at Bob with a concerned gaze.

Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded, but she didn't look convinced, and crouched down on the floor next to his chair and gave him an almost uncomfortable look, her eyes searching his face with an almost clinical appearance.

"You sure about that, sir?"

He was surprised by her concern and at his confused look, she smiled at him.

"My name's Karen Quinn. I'm with the medical staff here at the concert. We make sure that nothing goes wrong with anyone around here." Some of the tension left his body at that, and she finished explaining. "I saw you sitting over here looking as though you were in distress and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

At hearing the genuine worry in her tone, he nodded, smiled, and said,

"Well, thank you, Miss Quinn, but I'm quite alright."

Suddenly, she gave him a wide smile.

"You're English, aren't you?" He nodded, and she laughed. "I just got back from some medical training over in London, at Oxford University, actually. You have a lovely country."

He smiled and soon was unaware of the crowd around them and they began to talk.

Harry, on the other hand, was finally making his way back to their seats, a bottle of Guinness in each hand. He finally had their seats in sight and was surprised to see Bob talking to a rather pretty young brunette wearing a red shirt and jeans. Harry felt a stab of jealousy, but tamped it down and hastened his stride over to his mentor.

"Hey, Bob," he said, catching the man's attention. "Who's this?"

Letting his fingers brush against the other man's more than necessary, he handed Bob his beer, which it didn't seem that he needed any more, and looked at the woman that he'd been talking to.

Bob stood up extending a hand to the young woman and she smiled as she took it and stood up as well.

"Harry, this is Karen, and she is a medic here at the concert. She saw me over here looking distressed and came to see if I was alright." Bob saw Harry's look of worry, and he quickly reassured him. "I'm fine, but the two of us ended up talking and it seems she is very much a fan of Johnny Steele and has been telling me about his best songs."

He gave her a fond look and, again, Harry felt a stab of jealousy, so he placed his arm around Bob's shoulders, something that he'd done often enough in the past that Bob didn't think anything of it.

Karen, seeing the gesture, simply ducked her eyes slightly and a faint flush rose on her cheeks.

"Sorry, Bob…didn't realize you were here with someone. Harry, isn't it?" Harry nodded, and she smiled. "Right. Well, then, I should get back to doing my rounds."

And with that, she left, leaving Bob slightly confused and Harry with a faint flush of red in _his_ cheeks. He realized what she had assumed, but had not bothered to correct her. Why bother to correct her if it meant that she would continue to hit on Bob?

Bob looked off in the direction that she had left and then looked at Harry, who had now dropped his hand from Bob's shoulders.

"What do you think that was about?"

Harry shook his head, not quite meeting Bob's eyes.

"How should I know?"

Bob simply shrugged and took a sip of his beer and was pleasantly surprised at the taste.

"Not bad for American beer," he said, but Harry corrected him.

"Not American. British. I figured you wouldn't like what they usually serve at these places, so I splurged on something more to your tastes. Besides, I prefer it, too."

Bob gave him a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow, but said nothing, instead taking another drink. The two of them drank for a while, listening to the crowd getting worked up, everyone eagerly waiting for Johnny Steele to appear on stage, and then they heard the emcee come on.

"Hello, Chicago!" Cheering. "Tonight is your privilege and honor to have one of the greatest rock artists of his generation to appear for his _last, performance, ever!"_

More cheering erupted.

"Now, for his epic final concert, with over twenty-five-thousand tickets sold…I give you…Johnny Steele!"

The crowd went wild around them, and Bob laughed as he saw Harry among the people yelling their heads off. He held his beer above his head, screaming at the top of his lungs, and Bob found it to be quite an amusing sight.

Johnny Steele appeared on stage and then the bass started up and the crowd went almost deathly silent, as though trying to remember every sound, burning it into their memory.

It was a tense build up.

Then he started to sing and Bob was able to hear a sound that he actually didn't mind.

"_Something's gonna happen…do you feel it in the air? Could be the fear that's everywhere….Moon don't look friendly….there's blood in the sky…..and the taste of sweat burning in my eye!"_

It was an addictive beat and he found himself doing the same as Harry and bobbing his head along with the beat of the music.

The beat picked up and then it went into the chorus and Bob started laughing as Harry started to do air guitar with the lead guitarist, throwing himself into the song. Bob listened to it and was slightly impressed by the catchiness of the tune and found himself enjoying it, though not as much as Harry and the other people around them who were going just as crazy.

They went through the first song, and then went through three more songs, and then there was an equivalent of an intermission for the singer and his band.

Harry turned to Bob, and the necromancer bit the inside of his lip at the sight.

Sweat was streaming down his forehead and neck, soaking his shirt underneath, making it cling to him in an utterly enticing manner, driving Bob to the edge of distraction.

Bob, himself, was slightly sweaty as well and knew that he probably looked a mess, but didn't really care at that moment as looking at Harry was too pleasant of an experience, and drove away all self-conscious musings that he might have been having at that moment.

He was a sight that Bob could stare at all night, but would rather take advantage of.

Harry then leaned in and Bob bit the inside of his lip, holding in the moan that wanted to surface at the wonderful smell of Harry's sweat-soaked skin.

"Bob, want another beer?"

Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded, and then watched in appreciation as Harry walked away and the phrase came into his mind, _I hate to see you leave but I love to watch you go_, and he suddenly understood the meaning to its true depth. Harry's jeans were clinging to him as well, and Bob was certain that he'd drilled a hole into his lip with his teeth from the sight.

He didn't feel as self-conscious, however, as everyone else around him seemed to be just as sweaty and mussed.

It seemed he _could_ enjoy himself outside of his comfort zone.

* * *

**Part 3/4**


	4. Chapter 4

**BTW, my inspiration for this last chapter started when I started listening to Chris Young's "Aw Naw" starting at the line, "So, he was going to do what someone in his position was supposed to do…" Trust me, it makes a difference. ;)**

* * *

**4**

A little bit later, a man a bit older than Harry looked over at him and gave him a friendly wave and Bob half-heartedly returned it, thinking that the man was just being nice, but then the man waved him closer.

He was only a few seats away, and Harry would be a while, if the mass of people heading in the same direction Harry had gone was any indication, so he made his way over.

He might as well learn to meet new people.

"Hi, my name's Paul, pleased to meet you…?"

"Bob," he supplied.

Paul then smiled and said, "Good to hear someone else from the mother country is here. Thought I was the only Brit in the crowd."

Bob then realized that, yes, the man had a distinctive British accent. He had brown eyes, though they were slightly darker than Harry's, and though he had brown hair a touch of gray lingered at his temples, giving the man a distinguished older look that suited him.

Not realizing that Paul was giving him a once over with his eyes, Bob shook the man's hand and gave him a wide smile.

"No, you're not alone. Though, I didn't come here of my own volition. My, uh, friend got us tickets. This is the first time I've ever even heard the man sing, I'm afraid."

Paul simply shrugged.

"No crime in that. So…who'd you come with?"

"My friend, Harry. He thought that I would enjoy it."

"So, are you? Enjoying it, I mean?"

Bob shrugged, unsure of how to respond. He wasn't hating the experience, but he knew that the main reason that he wasn't hating it was because of the fact that Harry was here with him. Had he come alone, he wouldn't have had nearly as much fun…of course, he knew that he would have never come alone.

Paul simply let out a chuckle, and then continued their conversation, most of it one-sided, and then, just as before, Harry saw them.

At seeing Bob talking to the guy he felt another stab of jealousy.

What was it with Bob and meeting new people who felt as though they had to flirt with him? Even though it was a guy, it was obvious to Harry that he was flirting with Bob, and he didn't like it…not one little bit. So, he was going to do what someone in his position was supposed to do…

…Stake his claim.

Feeling bold, with his hackles risen, he strode over to Bob and pressed firm fingers against Bob's lower back as he gave the ex-ghost his second beer, his fingers deliberately lingering over Bob's, and Harry locked eyes with him and smiled…and _then_, and only then, did he acknowledge the presence of the other man.

"Hi," Harry said, trying to be as genuine as possible. "I'm Harry."

The man nodded and shook Harry's proffered hand.

"Pleased to meet you. My name's Paul."

Harry squeezed slightly harder than he normally did and was inwardly proud of himself when he saw the man wince just slightly before pulling back from the handshake.

So, maybe he was coming off a little strong. It was still better than not being noticed at all. He was going to let Paul know that Bob was _his_, and no one else's…and then he saw Paul give him a slight nod and a faint smile.

Yeah, he got the message.

Good.

Harry and Bob said a quick goodbye and walked back over to their seats, beers in hand.

_This_ time, Bob _did_ notice Harry's actions and he felt himself flush. Not with embarrassment, but with the fact that he was slightly turned on by how territorial he had become. Was Harry, possibly, just as interested in Bob as Bob was in Harry?

Deciding to be daring, he tested his theory by leaning in slightly and pressing his left hand against Harry's side and saying into his ear, "Don't worry, Harry…I'm not going anywhere."

Harry turned his head to give him a look and suddenly found his lips only centimeters from Bob's.

He didn't know what to do, but was beyond pleased when Bob closed the inches between them and leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. It was probably only meant to be a brief kiss, but at the touch of the other man's lips on his own, he gave into his urge and pressed the kiss even further, barely aware of the roaring of the crowd around them as Johnny Steele started back up again.

God…he tasted good.

It was better than Harry had ever imagined, and he had a pretty vivid imagination, mind you.

Their tongues tangled, each of them trying to take in as much of the other as possible. Bob let out a low groan as he tasted the inside of his wizard's mouth. Harry was spices, candles, and woodsmoke, with the faintest hint of electricity that played on his nerves, shutting down all logical parts of his brain.

Harry, too, was just as enraptured, his left hand sliding around Bob's waist and tucking his lower body against the older wizard's.

Bob was mountain stone, rain, and…something else that he couldn't identify, but it left a faintly warm, settled feeling in his senses, something like…ozone. That's what it was. The scent and taste of an oncoming storm.

Bob reciprocated Harry's action, and slid his own left hand around the younger man's waist, enjoying the sensations as he tilted his head slightly and delved just slightly deeper between his wizard's lips. Good lord, kissing Harry was delightfully sinful, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to drag him back to the car and force him to drive the two of them back to their place as soon as possible. Thoughts of having Harry strewn out on a bed beneath him were filling his head with heady images, and he decided to act on his instinct.

Bob pulled back from the kiss and took a moment to look at Harry and was enraptured.

Face flushed, lips slightly bruised, eyes dazed, practically black as they were fully dilated...lord, what a picture.

All it did was harden his resolve, and he grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him through the crowd, Harry not protesting in the least, the same exact thoughts in his mind, eager to get home and get the older wizard completely at his mercy.

Screw Johnny Steele.

As Harry drove the two of them home, Bob's hand reached over and was firmly kneading along Harry's thigh.

He drew in a sharp breath at the sensation and then looked over at him.

Bob's usually perfect hair was slightly mussed, his lips looked well kissed, and the top few buttons of his black and red shirt had come undone, showing off the sheen of sweat that lingered over the necromancer's skin. From the way he was sitting, the snug fit of the jeans showed Harry that he had been just as affected by their kiss as he had.

He then hissed as Bob's hand moved up along his thigh and palmed him through the fabric of the jeans.

Bob gave him a devilish grin and then said in that low, promising voice of his…

"Hurry home, Harry."

He never had driven faster in his life.

As soon as they made it back to the apartment, they went straight up the stairs. The instant Bob threw him back on the mattress, he stripped him of his boots and coat and whispered in Harry's ear, "You need to wear those more often, Harry," and then Harry heard Bob's shoes and coat hit the floor, and he thought to himself, _Boots and leather…it works every time…_

There wasn't much talking after that.

* * *

**Part 4/4**

**THE END**

**A.N. - This was just supposed to be a bit of fun. Put a little bit of both them in it (Johnny Steele and Paul), and besides...Bob in tight jeans and a leather coat? Oh, yeah! And Harry, too... *wipes up drool* Well, you know what I mean. *wink* Hope you enjoyed it!**


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